


Take One Step (and Make It Count)

by mousapelli



Category: ACCA13区監察課 | ACCA 13-ku Kansatsuka
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Hotel Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-16 16:18:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousapelli/pseuds/mousapelli
Summary: Nino said that he would keep his distance to give Jean time, but in Birra he can't help but be drawn back in.





	Take One Step (and Make It Count)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prillalar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prillalar/gifts).



> Title and lyrics below from Phillip Phillips' "Searchlight." I've been trying to write Jean/Nino fic to this song ever since I heard it the first time, and I'm glad Chocolate Box finally gave me the push to finish it. Hal, this whole ACCA thing was your fault in the first place, so here, take it. 
> 
> I can't find it now to link it, but some of this idea came from a piece of fanart that I saw that had Nino sucking Jean off where Nino was fully clothed and Jean was nearly naked, and I was like, yes, that is their dynamic, so much yes.

_I'm sending out a searchlight, shine it out until I find you_  
_Can you bring me back to life? when my heart's in smithereens_  
_I want to feel what it's like to be surrounded by you_  
_so I'm sending out a searchlight to bring you back to me_ \--Phillip Phillips, "Searchlight"

\-----

Nino said that he would keep his distance to give Jean time, but the truth was that it was Nino who needed both the distance and the time. He'd been too familiar lately, forgetting more and more that being Jean's friend was a role and not his actual reality, that he could hardly be Jean's any more than he could belong to himself. 

_Don't forget what you're doing here,_ the warning voice in his head cautioned. It used to be his father's voice, reminding him gently but firmly about the rules. Lately it had become the voice on the phone instead. Clinical. Vaguely disappointed. _I thought you understood your job, Crow._

Jean was smoking a cigarette so slowly that the wind seemed to be getting more of it than he was. Nino wished that he would finish and go inside his hotel already, the anxiety of Jean being out in the open crawling over his skin like ants. The longer Jean stood there, the more Nino's stare narrowed to the minutiae of it: Jean's long fingers pinching the cylinder, the wind tugging strands of his hair in the same direction as the smoke, the pink stung across his cheeks from the cold. He spent an eternity with his scope trained on the bob of Jean's adam's apple when he swallowed. 

_Finally_ , Nino thought when Jean flicked the butt of the cigarette away. But then he reached into his pocket, pulled the pack out, and started all over. Nino frowned; what was that idiot…

Jean looked up, eyes not exactly on Nino's location, but close enough that it couldn't be accidental. 

…oh. _Oh_. Nino finally caught on that Jean wasn't smoking. Jean was waiting. Heaving a near-silent sigh of exasperation, Nino pushed himself away from the shadows he was wrapped in. 

Jean saw him coming from a distance, expression unsurprised at Nino's appearance. When Nino was close enough to speak, they didn't anyway, only stood there watching each other as the wind run fingers through Jean's hair, a lover purposely stoking Nino's quiet jealousy. Jean turned to go back into the hotel, Nino's hand on the door before it had even started swinging closed. 

They walked across the lobby without anyone noticing their footsteps padding across the plush carpet; the front desk manager was occupied on the phone, his back partially turned. No other guests came or went in the lobby in the time it took them to cross and for the elevator to swallow them and whisk them upwards. 

"Help yourself," Jean said once they were inside his door, shrugging off his coat; Nino had a moment of disassociation before he noticed the case of Birra beer sitting on the hotel desk. It's the good stuff, the stuff they only export for an exorbitant price. Jean hasn't touched them. Nino pulled two out of them out from the package, cracking the lids off the bottles on the edge of the desk. He ignored Jean's small frown and handed him one of them, taking a long drag of his own before sitting it down and stripping off his camera and his own coat. 

He has already examined the room to his satisfaction by then, where the the door was, the window, the fast exit, the direction most likely to appeal to a sniper should one care to perch in a tree (not pleasant, as Nino had spent the day learning, but entirely doable). He steered Jean to a spot clear of all of these without him knowing that he was doing it, probably, Jean out of line of sight to the window and with Nino between him and the door. If that spot happened to be propped up against the headboard of his bed, well, Nino didn't design the hotel. 

"Get over here," Jean said, shifting to wedge a pillow between him and the headboard. He tugged Nino to sit beside him, the bed more than spacious enough to accommodate the two of them shoulder to shoulder. Nino hoped there wasn't another present from the Birra staff coming to visit Jean later, one with a cute smile to warm him up for the night. It wouldn't have been the first time a district tried that. Jean gestured with his beer. "This isn't bad."

"That's high praise from you," Nino chuckled. He'd brought the beer over with him and set it on the floor beside the bed. He handed Jean a second one just a bit too early, forcing him to down the last of the first one quickly or juggle two bottles. The beer was good, smooth and dark, but it wasn't the alcohol slowly warming him up, and it didn't touch the tension that was always present across his shoulders. 

_Jean's safe, he's right there,_ Nino told himself, but it didn't stop his gaze touching on the window, the door, the bathroom, the sweep of it regular like a security camera panning. 

The conversation lapsed until Jean was on his third beer and Nino on his second. Usually this part would have been filled with Nino inventing the reason he was there, the job, the assignment, but Jean seemed past that by now and that made Nino both relieved and anxious. So long as Jean had been entirely in the dark, Nino had been so good at this balancing act, so practiced; once Jean started lightly running his fingers along the edges of the spinning plates, Nino wasn't sure at all how long he could keep them all in the air. 

"It's too cold here," Jean complained, pressing himself in more against Nino's side. His cheek was digging into Nino's shoulder, his toes like ice against Nino's ankle.

"You should try socks," Nino suggested. He slid his arm across Jean's shoulders and Jean curled into it easily, the brush of his hair along Nino's jaw a sensation that always drew Nino's chest tight like a string was woven back and forth along his ribs. 

"Aren't you here to warm me up?" Jean asked. He was looking up at Nino with that same bland expression he gave everyone, but Nino could see the hint of a thaw in the ice blue of his eyes. It was the beer catching up to him. "I doubt Birra will send a girl to try it. I sent away the one in Suitsu brusquely enough that word must have spread."

Nino's witty retort was to kiss him square on the mouth. Jean tasted like beer, smoke, and incongruously, like snow. His lips were cold and Nino ran his tongue over the bottom one, savoring the difference between their body heat. He finally got his hands in Jean's hair like he'd been wanting to—take that, wind—and pulled gently until Jean opened his mouth up for Nino to lick inside. When Nino slid his hand up under Jean's shirt, Jean whined at the chill touch of Nino's fingers on his back. 

"Take this off," Nino murmured, sitting up to pull on Jean's shirt. Jean gave him a look of ruffled annoyance and Nino tried not to smile at how cute he looked half slumped down on his back, flushed and rumpled. He failed. 

"Don't laugh," Jean scolded, fingers just alcohol-clumsy enough to make undoing the buttons a bit of a tease. Nino enjoyed the show without helping until all the buttons were undone, then reached in to push up Jean's cotton undershirt. He thumbed a slow circle around Jean's nipple and Jean's breath caught just as he was opening his mouth to scold Nino again. 

Nino rolled his weight into the valley between Jean's thighs and put his mouth where his fingers were. Licking Jean's nipple made him shiver and sucking on it drew out a soft moan. Nino took his time about it, thumbing one nipple while working the other into a soft point with the heat of his mouth, then switching. Jean's fingers wound in his hair, dragging through it, and Nino switched sides again just to hear Jean groan a complaint about it. 

"Why are you still so dressed?" Jean demanded when Nino sat up to drag Jean's trousers and briefs off. Jean was up on his elbows to glare when Nino looked up, and Nino never wanted to stop looking. A flush was working its way down from Jean's wind-stung cheeks, over his throat and shoulders, the fairness of his skin showing the blush off to excellent effect. His hair was wild and his chest rose and fell unevenly with his breath, and his cock was flushed pink too, curving up. Nino didn't answer him, too busy falling on him to taste the curve of Jean's cock for himself. 

Jean's skin was so warm as Nino mouthed up the length of him, faintly salty from being trapped under heavy clothes all day, and Nino couldn't get enough of it. Every part of Jean here fascinated him, absorbed in the softness of Jean's inner thighs, the flat plane of his belly under Nino's fingers, the sharp jut of Jean's hip against Nino's cheek when he bucked up against Nino's hands and mouth. He was starting to sweat under his own jeans and sweater but that was a barely noticeable inconvenience when all his senses were caught up in Jean underneath him. 

He cupped the swell of Jean's ass in both palms and wrapped lips around the tip of Jean's cock, swallowing him until Jean bumped the back of his throat. Jean whined, muscles flexing under Nino's hands even though there was no further he could go. Nino drew a torturously slow breath through his nose before sliding slowly back, swirling his tongue around Jean's head before swallowing him again. And again, until he'd lost all sense of time. The first time he had done this, Jean had come so quickly Nino that still teased him about it, but now that he'd learned to last Nino wasn't sure which of them was doing a better job of teasing the other. 

"For fuck's sake, _please_ ," Jean finally said, fisting one hand roughly in Nino's hand to yank him back up. Nino's eyes were tear blurry from swallowing around Jean too deeply for too long, but he could see the blue fire of Jean's eyes through it well enough, the set of his jaw. "Just _do_ it already."

"Mm, Jean," Nino agreed, although Jean's cock was still in his mouth so it was only a hum in the air, vibrating against Jean's oversensitive skin and making him groan Nino's name like a curse. Nino dragged the tip of his tongue through Jean's slit to hear him do that again, and again when he cupped Jean's balls with firm fingers. 

Through with Nino's fucking around, Jean reached down to grip himself around the base and jerked himself off with shallow, rough strokes. Nino let him do it, thumbs digging into Jean's thighs and sucking hard on the top of Jean's cock until he came, salty and sharp on the back of Nino's tongue. Jean gave a quiet sob of relief as he collapsed on his back, shivering. Nino didn't move, still sucking and licking at Jean's skin even though Jean was trembling with overstimulation, and Jean didn't tell him to stop. 

When he finally did sit up, Nino was panting and flushed like he was the one who'd just come, his chest so tight from arousal that he could barely draw a full breath. He stood up and Jean's eyes tracked him in motion, bright blue and attentive where the rest of him was half-melted into the bed, liquid and loose-limbed. 

Nino reached for the hem of his sweater, watching how Jean's eyes tracked the movement. 

"Show me," Jean ordered, and Nino obeyed, drawing the wool up over his chest, his arms, his face, so slowly, feeling Jean's eyes on him like fingers counting his ribs. When Nino could see again, Jean's mouth was twisted with a smile at the corner. "You don't have to show off every time."

" _I'm_ showing off?" Nino murmured, eyes sweeping the length of Jean spread out in front of him. It took every ounce of his willpower to reach for his belt instead of his camera. "Oh, Jean."

He would just have to memorize it for himself, he supposed, tracing the line of Jean's body with his eyes until Jean got impatient enough to sit up and strip Nino's jeans off for himself.


End file.
